


Tainted Touch

by glacis



Category: Port Charles
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caleb touches Jack, Gabby, and by extension, Joe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tainted Touch

_Tainted Touch _

Joe was elated when the test results came through. An entire year of living his life on the edge of his nerves, not knowing if he was HIV positive, not daring to risk his love's life by allowing any intimacy, unable to make any plans for the future beyond the next test.

The final test.

The final, negative test.

Everything fell into place. The plan to start his life over, Gabby at his side, in a little town in the Appalachians, helping people who actually needed his help. Love, life, and a future. Then it all got strange.

Gabby'd been so nervous about singing at the nurses' ball. Then she'd come on like Gypsy Rose Lee and literally strip-teased him in front of the entire audience. He hadn't allowed himself to touch her, beyond the most innocent of kisses. He hadn't expected the first time he would see her breasts would be in front of three hundred charity-minded Port Charles residents.

Including his parents.

It was almost as if she was drunk. She didn't seem to understand what she'd done wrong, or even that she _had_ done anything wrong. He tried bringing it up tactfully. Then the train wreck happened, and the casualties began pouring in, and he was too busy with triage in the emergency room to think about Gabby's weirdness.

Sexy, he had to admit, but incredibly unlike her.

Dawn was breaking before he was able to take her home. They'd barely made it in the door before she attacked him. He couldn't think of another way to put it. The gentle foreplay and tenderness that had marked their closeness up to that point were washed away in rampant lust.

He'd had the fear, since he'd been celibate so long, that he might not be able to restrain himself with the requisite gentleness he wanted to show her, to cherish her as she deserved, when they finally made love. He'd wanted champagne, roses, and candlelight, long hours of love-play, a beautiful beginning to their future together.

He got her practically pinning him against the wall and raping him.

He finally wrestled her into the bedroom, and she nearly threw him onto the bed. Then she climbed up him and ravished him. He felt like he was caught in a whirlwind. He was hard and aching, drowning in Gabby, her hands and lips and, God, teeth! Everywhere. She climbed on top him and took him inside her without even giving him time to _ask_ about a condom, then started to move before he could catch his breath, making him lose it all over again.

Sweat stung his eyes, and he felt powerless as she caught his wrists and pinned them with unexpected strength to the pillow next to his head. He stared up into her beautiful dark eyes, now dancing with a fire he'd never seen. For an instant, her exotic features blurred, and he thought he saw different dark eyes, straight black hair instead of her mop of chestnut curls, coarser features painted over hers. The smile was the same, hungry and somehow manic. He blinked, and the image disappeared.

He'd never been so turned on, or so confused, in his life. He forced her away from him long enough to roll them over in the bed, and her hand raked across his shoulder at the same time that her teeth clamped into his neck. He barely kept from howling.

The only thing he could do was ride out the storm and try to find out what was going on in the afterglow. If there was an afterglow. If he didn't spontaneously combust from her heat.

 

Caleb stared at Olivia. She was his. She simply didn't realize it yet. Soon, she would. She would realize that Jack was not her destiny, and she would be his.

Until she did, he would relish every sensation he could gather. Michael had to escape the cellar sometime, and when he did, fun-time would be severely curtailed. If it wasn't for the fact that he dearly loved to see his twin grovel, since it went so well with his collar and his pathetic piety, he would have killed Michael years ago.

Maybe someday. Maybe soon. Until then, he had those he had touched, and what he would take from them. Through them.

 

Jack told the stupid bitch and her little gang of thugs that they shouldn't do it. They shouldn't attack him. He tried to warn them.

He felt like hell. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His skin itched. Energy was flowing through him, almost like his body was using him, not the other way around. He thought he had a fever. It was like he was floating off somewhere while all this strange stuff happened, but he felt the bruises afterward, so he knew it had to be him doing it.

Didn't it?

He needed Livvie. The only time he felt real was when she was holding him.

The gang moved in on them. He raised his hands to shield his face. One of them hit him.

Another one kicked him.

He tasted blood from his nose, running over his lip. His eyes blurred. The world spun sideways and he came up swinging. Kicking. Throwing people against walls.

It felt so good.

It hurt so much.

 

Gabby had waited so long for this. She loved Joe, sure, but she wanted him more. Wanted his skin under her lips, his body under her hands. She wanted to shred his skin from his bones and make him bleed and lick the blood and sweat from his body while he came.

A shudder worked its way down her spine. She stripped her dress off, caught him by the hair with one hand, around the waist with the other, and devoured him. He tried to get away, but she wouldn't let him, and soon he was kissing her almost as hungrily as she was kissing him.

Almost.

He was bigger than she was, but for once she was stronger. He made it to the bed and she knocked him over on top it, stripping him as she had stripped herself, with speed, efficiency, and barely controlled need. His eyes were huge, blue nearly disappearing around the blackness of his pupils, wide in his flushed face. His mouth was open and she dove in, nipping and biting at his tongue, his perfect lips, his velvet skin.

God, she wanted to eat him whole.

He kept moving, slowing her down, and she pinned his hands to the pillow to get them out of her way. His head arched back and she bit his neck, sucking until she could feel the blood of the bruise under her tongue. He made a comment about her lifting weights, his voice breaking in his throat, breathless from her assault.

She had to have more.

Giving in to the need to feel him over her, she allowed him to turn them in bed, until he was covering her, thrusting into her, big and hot and hard but not enough. Still holding back. She thrust against him as hard, if not harder, than he thrust into her, and used her nails to rake the skin on his shoulder. His blood was warm and slick beneath the pads of her fingers.

Finally, he reacted to the pain, or the pleasure, or the inevitability of her need, and took her almost as hard as she needed to be taken. His climax triggered her third, but she needed more.

He looked at her with wide, wounded eyes as he stretched his shoulder and winced. She told him he hadn't seen anything, and tried to get him down again so she could climb back on top of him, but he resisted. Said he needed to rest. Then he told her they would be leaving town in a week. She told him no. He looked surprised.

She couldn't leave. She'd met Caleb.

She could never leave.

 

Joe stared at the floor. Glanced over at Gabby. Looked away again.

Maybe she _was_ drunk. Maybe she'd ingested some sort of drug or something that was making her ... not herself. The sex, and it had been sex, not making love, hadn't been at all what he'd imagined. It was nothing like the woman he thought he knew. Knew he loved. Then she told him that all the plans they'd made, the plans she'd been so excited about, were for naught. She'd found someone else, and she was staying in Port Charles with him.

Then why had she made love to him? No, that wasn't it.

Why had she used him for sex, if she didn't love him any more?

He turned back to her to ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue and she put hers in his mouth before he could. Then she literally lifted him back onto the bed, and while he was still trying to figure out how on Earth she'd managed that move, she'd rolled him over onto his stomach. He scrabbled at the pillow, trying not to suffocate, and she straddled his ass, putting her hands against his shoulders and rubbing the muscles bunched up around his neck.

So much for discussion.

"Gabby?" The single word was all he could get out, and it was mangled by a moan as the massage went bone deep. He was exhausted, from the sexual acrobatics of the last few hours, the full night of emergency medicine before that, and a fourteen hour shift before the nurses' ball.

That was the only excuse he had for what could only have been the hallucinations he experienced next.

Because the only people in that room, in that bed, were himself and Gabby. But there were two sets of hands on him. Two mouths biting, licking and sucking his skin. And while Gabby rubbed herself against his spine, groaning softly, someone else settled between his thighs.

Pinned, clutching the pillow with both hands and unable to move, Joe felt a second set of hips move against his. A second set of hands gripped and spread his ass. A second voice was moaning, and somebody else was shoving into him. He screamed into the pillow as he felt a thick, wet, almost unbearably hot bulk stretching his anus, pumping into him. The rhythm of the thrusts rocked in time with the sliding of Gabby along his back, as if the two were in concert. Using him to pleasure themselves.

But there were only two people in that room.

In that bed.

Gabby bent down and bit the tender skin at the corner of his jaw, below his ear, and somehow that pushed him over an edge he hadn't realized he'd been approaching. He screamed again, a strangled sound, as the ... phantom? ... hips pushed against him, then jerked a few times, and Gabby moaned long and low in his ear. He was still trying to sort it out in his mind, and she was still moving against him, when he fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

It had been a pleasant evening, even without his Olivia. The man had been delicious. He was a good Catholic boy, and he'd been good a long, _long_ time. Caleb had enjoyed breaking him in again. He enjoyed the aftermath, too. The nightmares, just below the surface, tapping into the deepest shadows of the good doctor's soul. When Joe woke in the morning, he wouldn't remember his dreams. And Gabby would be gone. Caleb would see to that.

Jack was alone, his last friend deserting him in fear of his unrestrained violence. The sickness would eat at him, until Caleb had no further use for him, then it would kill him. Caleb would see to that.

He had gathered his forces, created his alibi, inhabited his spy. Now it was time to claim what was his. Olivia would come to him. Caleb would see to that, too.

 _end_


End file.
